Eye for an Eye
by Raptor517
Summary: Bellatrix taunts Harry after Sirius' death. He realizes that he's done playing by the rules. After all, he just wants to save his friends - they're all the family he has left. Harry/Hermione. Rated M for violence and some language. The world belongs to Rowling, blah blah blah.
1. Chapter 1

"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed, lunging forward as his godfather faded into the mist behind the slight sheen of the Veil. For one moment Harry was frozen in place - partly by Remus' arms holding him back from behind, and the other by the stunned reality of it all.

Sirius was dead. And it had happened before he fell through the veil. That mischievous sparkle in his eyes had faded even before his body had. Time slowed, and Harry remembered that same sparkle when Sirius had agreed to take Harry in.

And now he was gone. Snuffed out, the same as his parents.

On the far side of the room, Bellatrix's mad cackle shivered through the room, but was suddenly drowned out by a roar of anger.

In a split second, Harry had gone from stunned grief to pure rage.

His first _bombarda _was deflected easily enough by Bellatrix, but as she batted it away she was shocked at a second, this ball of light larger than the first. Again she deflected it, the impact against her wand noticeable.

The thumps of two more death eaters being stunned by Dumbledore was a good enough reason for Bellatrix to flee the scene before she attracted his notice.

"_Reductor_!"

Bellatrix barely dodged the spell, surprise striking her along with the shrapnel of the granite wall the spell had impacted.

"Die, whelp!" she snarled, whirling to fire off a severing charm.

"_Protego_!" Harry spat, his shield deflecting the charm as Remus fired off a spell of his own, giving Harry a rare opening for vengeance.

"_Crucio_!"

Bellatrix didn't hear the incantation but instantly recognized the curse's effects. For a moment her eyes widened, then she shrugged off the spell and laughed.

"You need to _mean_ them, Potter!" She cackled. "You need to really _want_ to cause pain - to enjoy it! Righteous anger won't hurt me for long!"

A moment later she was gone with Voldemort, and Harry collapsed to his knees, stunned.

"Sirius." He wasn't sure how much time passed - for a while all was a blur. All he could think was that he was without family...again. He was dimly aware of everyone being rounded up, and of an astonished Fudge and his Ministry stooges being outraged by one revelation after the other. They had seen Voldemort. One by one the Death Eaters were unmasked. Then they hurried off.

"Harry!" Hermione, stabilized and on a stretcher, was set near him as a mediwizard continued to cast spells on her.

"Hermione?" Harry stirred. "Why'd they bring you here to treat you?"

"Remus knew it'd break you out of your daze, obviously," Hermione smiled.

"Are you ok?"

She grimaced. "It hurt pretty bad. They doused me with a potion right away, though. I'm not sure why I got hit with, but judging by what I've overheard, I...I might have died if he'd been able to say the spell aloud." Hermione's lip trembled, and Harry felt the rage instantly spring to life again inside.

"It'll be ok, Hermione." He reached over, squeezing her hand, and smiled. On the inside, he wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but it felt right. Slowly he looked around the room, and felt his blood run cold.

All his friends were there and alive, but not unharmed. Ginny's ankle was being mended by a healer. Neville was cradling the halves of his wand in his lap, not aware of his broken nose. Luna was talking to a disoriented Ron, the redhead staring into space, his fingers lightly running along the welts on his face.

And Sirius was dead.

_Enough_. Harry started at the thought in his head, and the sudden crystal clarity of it. _ENOUGH_!

For a moment he wondered what was different, but then it came to him. Voldemort had taken his parents. Azkaban had taken Sirius for a time, and then Bellatrix and the Veil had taken him for good. His friends had almost died. Neville had lost his father's wand.

_Enough_.

It was time to fight this war differently. Harry wasn't sure how, but he was going to find a way. He was done waiting for the adults to figure everything out.

****Eye for an eye****

"You two go on. I want to check something."

Draco waited for the others to slip out, then checked carefully to make sure he was alone. Acting as normally as possible, he grabbed his case, then headed for the exit, pausing to shut the door and close the blinds.

Gone was his smirk. His father was gone, his family was disgraced. And the task ahead of him...he'd likely die attempting it. He'd certainly die if he failed.

Draco was _not _in the mood for spies.

"Didn't mommy ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Potter?" In a practiced turn, his wand already subtly drawn, Draco flicked it forward to the rack where his briefcase had been moved. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Nothing.

For a moment, Draco felt relieved he had ordered the others out; it seemed that his paranoia was getting to him - and then a fist smashed against his nose, slamming him into the closed door, his wand clattering to the floor.

"_Expelliarmus_. _Incarceo_. _Silencio. Colloportus._"

Harry's calm voice was different. Every other time he'd used a spell, it had been a moment of desperation. Now he crouched in front of Draco, who had been disarmed, bound, gagged, and locked in the room with the one who had played a role in his father's fall.

"I don't know, Malfoy," Harry said after a long moment. "She was dead before I got to the age of really remembering anything. Your father's master saw to that. Killed my father, too."

Malfoy tried to reply, tried to yell, but his voice wasn't working.

"I know you're probably mad about your dad, but frankly I don't care, Draco." Harry spat. "Your aunt killed my godfather. Your dad threatened me and my friends. He deserves Azkaban! Or rather, he deserves to be kissed by a dementor. But no, even in this he got off easy. He got off the first time on the _imperio_ defense, and this time, when he's literally caught serving the same man, is he tried for all his previous crimes? Nope!"

Harry stood for a moment, pacing back and forth, and growing more agitated. "I tried to warn everyone! I was mocked, rejected by my friends, by the school, by my teachers, by this stupid country! And now, when I'm proven right, I don't even get an apology! In the meantime, your father probably has a nice comfy cell in Azkaban, while Sirius is DEAD!"

The last word was screamed in rage and pain, and Draco hoped someone would overhear and come looking. Harry didn't seem to think of it. That was good.

"I'm done with this, Draco!" Harry snapped, turning and walking rapidly forward to crouch once more in front of him.

"I was orphaned and placed with crappy relatives. My first friend nearly got murdered by a troll. Then later by a basilisk, released by a spirit possessed book your _father_ gave to my friend to _possess_ her! Cedric _did _die. I could keep going, but you know what, I reviewed that enough in my head the past few weeks."

Reaching forward, Harry slowly began undoing the cuff on Draco's sleeve, quietly speaking.

"I'm done with fighting this war the way we have been. We follow the rules. You father doesn't, the death eaters don't, and your Master doesn't. And it's my friends and family who die."

With the sound of fabric being pushed up his arm, Draco's mark was exposed to Harry.

"I see."

Slowly Harry set his wand aside, then picked up Draco's, examining it as he spoke.

"Bellatrix taunted me after she killed Sirius, Draco. Did you know I cast a _crucio_ at her? I did." Harry shrugged. "It didn't do much. I didn't even consciously cast it. I just wanted to hurt her, you know?"

Draco stared in horror, wide eyed but unable to do anything. Was Potter about to _torture_ him? Surely he wouldn't...couldn't. Potter had always been weak.

"She laughed it off, Draco. Said that I needed to _mean _it, to _want _to cause pain," Harry whispered, slowly leveling Draco's wand at his face. "And you know what? I don't want to cause pain. I just want to end it."

Lucius Malfoy had long ago arranged for the trace on Draco's wand to be removed. Thus there was no owl and no magical gadget setting off an alarm or creating a notification as a light flashed on a car of the Hogwarts Express.

"_Imperio._"


	2. Chapter 2

"_Imperio_."

For a split second Draco stared at Harry with astonished wide eyes, and then they glazed over and he relaxed. Seconds ticked by, and Harry just sat there. He had barely canceled his silencing spell on Draco when he heard a distant and familiar voice.

"Harry wouldn't have left the platform without us!"

"Blimey, Hermione! He's probably just wanting to be left alone! What with Sirius dying and - bugger, Harry! What did he try to do to you?"

Harry looked sadly over his shoulder as Ron and Hermione advanced down the car, wands drawn.

"I tried to use one of the twins' products to position myself to eavesdrop," Harry explained. "Draco figured out where I was, but tried to stun me afterwards. I got the drop on him."

"Harry…" Hermione's knuckles tightened about her wand as she took in the sight of Draco's arm. "You were right."

Harry chuckled despite himself. "It's getting old, isn't it?"

Ron frowned. "Draco's being awfully calm."

"Yeah." It didn't occur to Harry to lie. "I used his wand and _imperiused _him."

"Harry!" Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "You didn't!"

"I did!" Harry snapped. "I'm not playing by the rules any more! I lost my parents, I lost Sirius...even Cedric died. All of you almost died in the hall of prophecies! NO MORE!"

For a moment his two best friends simply stared, and then the silence was broken by Hermione's sigh. "You're right." She knelt, staring at Draco's glassy eyes. "What's your plan? I assume you intended more, since you could have checked his mark while he was bound."

"Well, I hadn't thought this through much farther, really," Harry admitted. "I kept getting stuck wondering whether I had what it took to actually cast the spell." He glanced at Draco. "Draco, where are the death eaters staying?"

"Their homes."

Harry glared at Draco. "Where is Vol-he who must not be named staying?"

"Don't know."

"When did you take the mark?" Hermione butted in.

"Two weeks ago. At my home."

"Is the dark lord there?"

"He left."

Harry's memory triggered, and he leaned forward. "Tell me every reason you were in Borgin and Burkes."

"Pick up some supplies." For a moment Draco shook, clearly wanting to limit his answer, but the spell won out. "I need to know how to repair a vanishing cabinet!"

"A vanishing cabinet?" Harry glanced at the others. "What's a vanishing cabinet?"

"It's like a floo but you don't need powder and it only links you to one place." Hermione recited.

Harry felt his stomach clench, and he turned back to Draco. "What cabinet are you trying to repair?"

"The one in the Room of Requirement."

"Where is that?" Harry prompted. "The ministry?"

"Hogwarts."

"Where's the other cabinet?" Harry demanded.

"Borgin and Burkes."

"What were you going to do?"

"Bring in other Death Eaters."

"To do what?"

"Help me kill...Dumbledore." The last part was gasped out as Draco fought the curse. Hermione paled.

"Of course." Ron muttered. "He's trying to take out the queen with a pawn."

"Dumbledore can wipe the ground with all of the death eaters!" Harry snapped. "Draco doesn't have a chance! He's just a teenager, like us!"

"This is punishment," Hermione realized. "Lucius failed at the ministry! This is to punish him for it!"

"It's not a bad move," Ron commented. "We all know how soft Dumbledore is. He might actually let Draco do it. Either way it's a win for he who must not be named."

"Well, we can't let them do it," Hermione muttered. "We'll turn Draco over to the aurors, then find this room and smash the cabinet. Sounds like it needs repairs, anyway."

"We can't do that," Harry sat back. "We can't give them Draco. He'll tell on us for using an unforgivable."

"Well…" Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "We could try to obliviate him."

"Yeah!" Ron brightened. "It did a real number on Lockhart!"

"That's the danger," Hemoine countered. "If we obliviate Draco too far, it'll be obvious that it happened. Not only would it likely condemn him, but the Aurors would be searching for whoever did it."

For a moment they were all silent, then Harry turned back to Draco. "You are head of house Malfoy now, yes?"

"Yes."

"What's your master's plans? How many death eaters does he have?"

"I kill Dumbledore. He takes the ministry. He kills you. Almost thirty death eaters."

"Thirty?" Harry echoed, amazed.

"Yes."

"As in thirty left?"

"Around thirty total."

Harry looked at the others in astonishment. "Am I the only one who thinks we should be winning this war?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Harry, he who must not be named...I don't know if anyone but Dumbledore can stand up to him. You saw the fight in the ministry!"

"So nobody but Dumbledore can match him. But why can't we take out his supporters? They attack multiple places, throw around enough curses to call the Aurors there, and then Voldemort can execute on his real plan."

"Guerilla tactics," Hermione supplied. "What are you thinking, Harry?"

"I-"

"WHAT. THE. BLAZES!"

Whipping about, wands at the ready, all three froze as they took in the sight of Nymphadora Tonks taking in the sight of the three of them along with a clearly imperiused Draco.

"Now, Tonks…" Harry said quickly, mind racing for an explanation.

"Nymphadora!" Hermione said quickly.

"The name's - bloody hell, what have you done?" Tonks started automatically before shaking it off.

"Look!" Hermione pointed to Draco's mark.

For a long moment Tonks stared, then slowly shook her head and sighed. "You try to believe the best, but I knew my cousin was going to likely go down this road. But Harry…"

"I'm done, Tonks." Harry said quickly. "How long before I lose somebody else for playing by the rules? This opportunity presented itself."

"Yes, but-"

"Draco's got a vanishing cabinet that the Death Eaters can use to infiltrate Hogwarts!" Harry interrupted. "He also said the Dark Lord's only got thirty or so death eaters. We just put eleven on those in Azkaban. If we take the rest out...we can have a Dumbledore and an auror squad ready to show up wherever Riddle does."

"There's going to be more to it than that," Tonks cut him off. "I don't think Voldemort can be killed. Dumbeldore's been holding off for a reason."

"He hasn't told you?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Not yet," Tonks answered, shifting uncomfortably. "He will when the time's right."

"The time's right bloody now!" Harry snarled, furious. "Tonks, can you obliviate Draco?"

"What?" Tonks stared at him, stunned.

"Obliviate him. You're an auror, you've probably got to obliviate some muggle every other week or so." Harry shrugged, noting her hesitation, and then turned, leveling Draco's own wand at him. "Unless you'd rather I…"

"Blimey, Harry!" Ron exclaimed.

"No! Let me do it, Harry."

Stepping forward quickly, Tonks pushed Harry's wand down, then took a deep breath, and cast the spell.

"_Obliviate_."

A moment later Draco blinked, noting his books on the floor. Puzzled, he stooped to pick them up, then glanced around. Potter was not there, and hadn't been. He headed out of the train, hurrying inside for dinner. With luck he might be able to work on the vanishing cabinet afterwards.

Meanwhile, Harry was leading the way up to Dumbledore's office, trailed by Hermione, Ron, and Tonks.

"Harry! Hermonie! Ron! I was wondering where you were!"

Harry glanced at his longtime friend, then nodded to the staircase he was headed toward. "Come along, Neville. You and I have some answers to get. And while we're at it..." Whipping out his wand, Harry fired off a patronus message.

Up behind his desk, Dumbledore gave in to temptation and popped another lemon drop in his mouth. Nearby, Fawkes gave a warning croon.

"Easy now, old friend, one more won't hurt," Dumbledore reassured his familiar.

A moment later, the runes around his door alerted him that there was a small contingent awaiting entry. Judging by the energy swirling around a certain young man, Dumbledore knew he had just had the last peaceful moment of his day.


	3. Chapter 3

"Harry! Hermione! Ron! And Tonks!" Dumbeldore smiled widely. "This is an unexpected surprise!" He fixed his eyes on the auror. "Thank you for keeping an eye on these three, as well as the entire train."

Tonks shrugged, clearly nervous. Dumbledore glanced at the four faces, then sighed and conjured four chairs and sat behind his desk. "What's happened?"

They glanced at each other, slightly taken aback. "What makes you think something happened?" Ron blurted.

"Come now, Ron," Dumbeldore chuckled. "Harry's angry, you're uncomfortable, and Miss Granger here is clearly feeling a mix of these emotions. That, along with Tonks coming up here when she was under no orders to do so, means that something has happened. Out with it."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry's raised hand cut her off. "Give us thirty seconds, professor - we'd prefer to wait for professor McGonagall."

Dumbledore blinked for a moment, surprised, then his eyes shifted to the door. There was no discernable movement, but Harry felt a touch of his magic swirl before the entrance opened and professor McGonagall entered. For a split second, Harry and Dumbledore looked at each other, realization dawning in both their eyes.

"Harry, what on earth is going on?" she said, taking in the room. "Auror Tonks! What…?"

Harry stood, then offered her his chair. "Thanks for coming, professor. I wanted my head of house present for this conversation."

"Were you attacked by someone, Harry?" Minerva began, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm about to explain everything, but before you start in on me about whether or not what I did was right - just keep in mind that it's already been done, and we can't undo it. Unless you've got one of those handy time-turners around."

"They don't work like that, Harry," Hermione said automatically.

"Well then." Harry took a deep breath, then launched into it, ticking each sentence off his fingers. "I imperiused Draco on the Express. He's a marked Death Eater. He's working on repairing a vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement, wherever that is in Hogwarts. The Death Eaters are to help him assassinate you, professor Dumbledore. He also said Voldemort has about thirty death eaters, total."

"Harry!"

"I used Draco's wand, professor McGonagall," Harry said quickly. "The ministry won't know it was me."

"That's hardly my primary concern, young man," Minerva said sharply. "That magic is very dark - not that it corrupts you, but it's too easy to abuse. And once you use it the first time, it's that much easier to use it the next time. And the next, and the next. It's not the magic itself that corrupts a person - it's the rewards it gives to one's dark side. We all have one."

Harry nodded, touched. "Thank you, professor. I trust you all will keep an eye on me."

"Not close enough, apparently." Dumbeldore said, troubled. "Harry, I never-"

"Shut it, headmaster!" Harry snarled. "I'm done playing nice. Using anything less than all the tools at our disposal to protect the innocent and the good is _wrong_. And again, what's done is DONE! So let's stop arguing about whether it was right, and start deciding what we're going to do with this information!"

"The information is relatively useless, except to ruin Draco's life," Dumbledore answered sternly. "Tom will change bases now that he knows we know his plan."

"He won't know," Hermione answered. "Tonks obliviated Draco."

The metamorphagus shifted uncomfortable. "Sorry, headmaster. But it seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"For the last time, what's done is done!" Harry snapped. "The Death Eaters are coming to assassinate Dumbeldore. Eleven of the dark lord's forces are in Azkaban, so he's down a third of his forces. What's our move?"

"It's been very hard to predict their moves," Tonks shifted. "They do hit and runs."

"Headmaster," Hermione piped up, "Tonks said you've been holding off on attacking the dark lord...that it seemed you didn't think he could be killed. Is that true?"

"What do you think, miss Granger?" Dumbledore said softly. "How many times has the Dark Lord come back? How many times has he died?"

"I'm an idiot," Harry said after a moment. "Why didn't I ask this question earlier? We're _all_ idiots!"

"Don't feel bad, Harry," Dumbledore said encouragingly. "Coming back from the dead isn't ever a normal assumption."

"How is he doing it, headmaster?" Ron asked.

"Some of the darkest magic ever created," Dumbeldore answered. "A horcrux - Voldemort divided his soul and bound a piece of it to some object. As long as the object exists, Voldemort can come back."

"The diary," Hermione said as realization dawned. "Was that his horcrux?"

"Well done, miss Granger," Dumbeldore said.

"But Harry destroyed that!" she protested. "So why is he still around?"

"He has more," Dumbeldore answered. "My theory is that Voldemort was working to create seven of them, as seven is a magically powerful number."

"_Was_ working, headmaster?" Ron echoed.

"I believe that Tom's attempt to kill Harry as a baby was meant to be the murder with which he would create his final horcrux."

"Why would he choose me?" Harry wondered aloud. "Was it that prophecy?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Well done on putting the pieces together, Harry. Yes. There is a prophecy, and that is why Voldemort is so set on killing you in particular. He fears that prophecy."

"What does it say, headmaster?" Ron asked, eyes set as his mind raced.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._" Voldemort recited.

Hermione shivered. "That's just creepy."

"Magic does strange things, miss Granger," Voldemort answered. "It is clear to you why the Dark Lord decided Harry was the one with the power to vanquish him?"

Everyone nodded.

"That is why we have kept that prophecy secret," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort does not know the full details of that prophecy, and his determination to get to it was a rare thing we could rely on. It was no accident that the order of Phoenix was able to infiltrate the ministry so quickly to stop the Death Eaters. It's a trap we've had ready for years."

For a moment everyone was silent, recognizing the wisdom, then Ron stirred. "Can't we still use it?"

"Voldemort likely knows the prophecy has been destroyed," Tonks pointed out.

"But if the rumor started circulating that one of us heard it - or that maybe Harry heard it and then told it to one of us - that person could be used as bait for another trap!" Ron said, warming to the idea.

"I'm not using you as _bait!_" Harry snapped.

"What about misinformation," Hermione spoke up. "We could put a false prophecy out there - something that would have Voldermort or at least more of his cronies showing up."

"That's brilliant, Hermione!" Harry grinned.

"Harry!" McGonagall's stern voice broke through the excitement in the room. "I am not contradicting the strategic value of Hermione's idea...but what about the actual prophecy? What if the _only_ person who can defeat the dark lord is _you_?"

"If that's true, then both he and I are effectively immortal unless facing each other in combat," Harry pointed out. "He doesn't believe it! Why else would he run from Dumbeldore?"

"Maybe I can't kill him, but what if I enabled _you_ to land the finishing blow?" Dumbledore reminded Harry. "And don't forget, he doesn't know the full prophecy."

"I doubt he's told Draco…" Harry thought aloud. "This is all well and good to know, though. But what do we do? What's your plan, headmaster?"

"I am trying to confirm whether or not Tom actually made seven horcruxes," Dumbledore answered. "We also need to locate and destroy them. I've not been bold in this because if Tom realizes it, he can hide one where we'll never find it."

"What's the use in subtlety if magical England is destroyed while we're tiptoeing around?" Harry snapped.

"Harry…" Dumbeldore's voice turned soft. "I see your point. But impulsiveness has a cost." Raising his arm from under his desk, Dumbledore placed his hand openly before them. The withered hand had a musty smell to it. Everyone stirred uncomfortably at the sight, and Harry from the magical _stink_ of the limb.

"This ring was another of Tom's horcruxes," Dumbledore said softly. "The curse on it should have killed me within moments. As it is, I was able to slow it down, and professor Snape was able to do even more. But the curse is going to kill me, albeit in months, instead of seconds."

"Why'd you put it on, headmaster?" Ron asked.

"I was tempted."

Harry paced up and down the room, still agitated by the feel of the cursed limb. "Ok, so we've got to find out how many horcruxes Voldemort made, and what they are. Do you have any leads on that?"

"I do, Harry. And you've already played a role in helping me in that pursuit."

"He has?" Hermione was bewildered, turning to Harry in surprise, who held up his hands to communicate his shared bewilderment.

"I believe Tom got information on horcruxes from professor Slughorn."

"Slughorn?" Harry exclaimed. "That's why you recruited him?"

"To get that knowledge, and to keep him safe," Dumbeldore said.

"Well, what did Slughorn say?" Ron asked.

Dumbeldore's face grew somber. "He hasn't. I've asked him time and again and he doesn't want to talk about it."

"How could he?" Hermione cried. "This is could lead to Vold - the Dark Lord's demise!"

"And it could lead to the revelation that Slughorn played an instrumental part of his rise," Minerva spoke up. "I've known Horace for the longest time. He is a very powerful wizard, and his identity is wrapped up in that and in his relationships with other powerful wizards and witches. Giving up that information could well shatter everyone's perception of him."

"That's just selfish," Harry snarled. "People are _dying_! Maybe we should threaten to tell them if he _doesn't_ give us the information!"

"It's not that easy, Harry," Dumbledore chided. "Horace made a mistake - he couldn't have known Tom's intentions at the time. Do you think the wizarding world will be that understanding? How many things have they condemned you for that you didn't do?"

"There is that," Harry amended, remembering the recent Tri-Wizard tournament.

"Also," Dumbeldore said, glancing down at his hand. "What Horace is doing is very human. We all have insecurities and failings that eat away at us, and we all tend to try to hide from those very things."

All was silent in the room as everyone reflected on themselves, and then Harry broke the silence.

"What do you want me to do, headmaster?"

"That's the spirit, boy," Dumbledore smiled. "Horace will doubtlessly reform his old Slug Club. Go to it, even though you hate it. Work with him. Build a friendship. See if you can get that memory of his conversations with Voldemort - or at least a description of the conversation."

Harry nodded in assent, before looking up. "I have a request, headmaster."

"What is it, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath as the others looked at him curiously. "I want you to train me in magic. Train me on how to duel, how to _win_. If I _am_ the only one who can take Tom down, I need training from the only wizard he fears."

Dumbeldore studied Harry for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well, Harry. What do you say we begin tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. "Thanks for answering my questions."

"Harry, why did you want me here?" McGonagall asked.

"Pretty simple, professor," Harry said frankly. "I used an unforgivable on another student. I wasn't sure if the situation was going to be taken into consideration."

Nobody looked at Dumbledore, but the point was clear.

"While I am sorry you felt the need, it appears to have yielded results, Harry." Minerva said with uncharacteristic softness. "Just don't go doing it again."

"Yes, professor," Harry nodded. "Thank you for looking out for me."

They all parted ways outside Dumbeldore's office, Minerva heading to her quarters, while Tonks followed them as far as the path allowed.

"Tonks," Harry said quietly. "The horcruxes are the real deal and a definite priority...but I think we need to be more _aggressive_ in combating Voldemort's forces. You in?"

It only took a moment of thought. "I'm in, Harry. We got valuable intel today because of you. Maybe a little more aggressiveness is just what we need."

A couple turns later and Tonks headed toward the wards, and not much later Harry turned toward the dungeons instead of the stairs to Gryffindor. "Harry?"

He smiled. "No worries, Hermione. If we need to start working on professor Slughorn, I might as well start now."

"Don't be long, Harry," Ron answered.

"See you soon." Harry answered.

A moment later he stood before Professor Slughorn's door, then experimented by trying to _push_ magic at the door. For a few moments, nothing happened, then as he gave a final halfhearted try he felt the pulse go forth.

Almost immediately he heard someone fumbling about within, then not much later Slughorn stuck his head out. "Harry Potter!" he said, brightening. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Professor," Harry said politely, "You probably heard that we started a dueling club a while back. Though it was fun, I've been getting interested in working with more..._gifted_ students. Enough people question and oppose everything I do, but I understand you had that sort of club once upon a time. I don't suppose you'd be willing to do it again?"

Horace practically glowed. "Mister Potter, that very idea was on my mind! Come in, come in!"

The door had barely closed behind Harry before Slughorn was hustling toward the stove, wand applying a heating charm to the kettle. "Tea, Harry? Or hot chocolate?"

"Your wand and some answers, professor," Harry answered, his holly wand already drawn. "_Expelliarmus!" _

Slughorn's wand slapped into Harry's hand, and he leveled it at Slughorn. "Sorry, professor. _Imperio_!"


	4. Chapter 4

"_Imperio_!"

It was different than with Draco. For a moment Slughorn's wide eyes began to relax, but then he clearly struggled for a bit before settling into a subdued state.

"I'm sorry, professor," Harry said earnestly. "I doubt you'll believe me, but I am sorry. It's just that he who must not be named and his people have killed so many, and they're going to keep doing it. I want you to know that nobody sent me to do this. The headmaster was hoping I could win your trust...but I just can't wait around for it." He took a deep breath. "That said, I'm not going to broadcast what you've done. I'll keep it a secret, unless that secret would lead to the death of an innocent."

For a moment Horace seemed to struggle once more, but the spell held true.

"What did you tell Tom Riddle about Horcruxes?" Harry asked.

"He...he…" Slughorn gasped, trying to fight the curse. "He asked me how to make them."

"You _knew_?" Harry snarled.

"Not _how_ to make them - I didn't know the spell or incantation. Just the theory."

"Did he say what he would bind them to?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. I'd have turned him in on the spot," Slughorn wheezed.

Harry thought for a moment, wondering what he should ask next. He wished Hermione was here - she'd know what to ask - but he was glad that she was not. He was sure it would hurt her terribly to know what he'd done.

"Professor...did he have any particular objects he seemed attached to?"

"Just a family ring," Horace said, after a moment. Harry thought of the ring Dumbledore had been wearing on his ruined hand and cursed mentally. _Old information_.

"Can you think of any information that can help us find the Dark Lord's horcruxes?"

"He asked about splitting his soul more than once…" Horace recalled. "He mentioned seven, as it's the most magically powerful number."

"So it's true," Harry murmured. "Do you have any other information that can help us defeat him?"

"No."

"Well then…" Harry glanced around. "I'm sorry, professor. I'm sure you'll probably never forgive me, and certainly never trust me...but maybe at least you'll understand. Maybe this will help me defeat him and avenge my parents and the hundreds of others who have been killed. I'll send your wand back to you with an owl."

With a wave of Slughorn's wand, Harry ended the spell. Slughorn's eyes cleared immediately, and he lurched to his feet, face growing ugly with anger. Harry shifted uncomfortably - the look was far too similar to Uncle Vernon - but this time Harry actually deserved it.

"I'm sorry, professor," he said again lamely, turning back toward the door.

"_Obliviate_!"

Harry barely heard the snarled incantation and dropped to the floor, the spell splashing against the door behind him, and he barely snapped a shield into place before a stunner deflected off it.

"You use an unforgivable on _me_, boy?" Horace raged. "You little sh-"

"_Bombarda_!" Harry's spell was from a mere ten feet away and at a different angle to spot from his position on the floor, yet Slughorn effortlessly batted it away with his backup wand. Harry's eyes widened, and he suddenly realized just why the death eaters had wanted to recruit the potions master.

"_Reducto!_" Harry's shield held, but he grimaced from behind it. Slughorn was _strong_, and Harry suddenly knew he couldn't win. If he had had room to maneuver, he might have been able to wear out the pudgy man, but in this small space, Slughorn had him cornered and it was just a question of strength and skill.

"Professor, what would my mother-"

"She'd be helping me!" Slughorn snapped. "Using an Unforgiv-" he paused, batting Harry's two spells into the ceiling and then the wall. "_Reducto_!"

Harry dropped the shield and scrambled forward, trying to close the distance and get some room, anything to change the scenario. Bits of debris from the smashed wall pelted into him, stinging his skin and giving him a sudden awareness of the damage the room was taking. Instantly he leveled his wand to Slughorn's left, targeting the far shelf that looked to hold all kinds of mementos.

If Slughorn treasured all his connections and loved bragging on them, what would he do to protect the symbols of said relationships?

"_Bombardo_!" Harry's spell flicked across the room and Slughorn didn't blink.

"_Ventus_! _Expelliarmus_! _Levicorpus_!"

As Slughorn's shelf of souvenirs shattered, a blast of wind hurled Harry into the wall before he went crashing to the floor. Both wands were torn from his grasp, and a moment later Harry was being dangled in the air by his feet.

"Fool boy," Slughorn said, panting before tossing Harry's wand to the side, and taking his own into his hand. "You were there when I repaired my hiding place. You think I can't, and haven't, done the same with those trinkets?"

Inside, Harry's practical side cursed, while his emotional side was in a panic. He was slowly turning in a circle while hanging from the magical rope that held his ankle.

"What are you going to do with me, professor?" he gasped, wondering if he could summon his wand.

"You...little…" Horace was wheezing and sweating, dropping one hand to the table as he bent over slightly, trying to catch his breath. "I'm...going to-"

Without warning the door slammed open, and Harry turned his head, squinting into the lighter corridor outside Slughorn's office. Before his eyes could adjust, he heard an amused drawl.

"Mister Potter."


	5. Chapter 5

"Mr. Potter."

Despite his predicament, Harry could almost hear the amusement in Snape's voice. Severus looked past Harry, taking in the wrecked room and Slughorn's panting, perspiring self.

"What happened here?"

"None of your business!" Slughorn gasped. "Harry attacked me - and I was defending myself. Now leave us be!"

"Hm." Snape took in the room once more, then turned to Harry Potter. "I suppose you don't want me intervening, Mr. Potter?"

For a long moment, Harry warred within himself, not wanting to trust Snape, but knowing that he couldn't be left alone and defenseless with Slughorn.

"Actually, professor, I would very much like to leave with you," he managed. Talking was a little difficult when dangling upside down.

"You're going nowhere!" Slughorn snapped. "He attacked me-" he started again.

"And did quite well, when considering the state of your room." Snape drawled. "Really, professor, one would expect more from a head of house."

"That brat attacked me from behind! I'll have him _expelled_!"

"Then I shall call the headmaster," Snape said, lifting his wand.

"DON'T!" Slughorn shouted, pointing an unsteady wand at Snape. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Horace." Snape's voice was suddenly deadly soft. "You can barely hold that wand. If a teenager could wear you out this quickly, what chance…"

"Desperation, Severus." Horace was regaining his wind, and gestured slightly with his wand, indicating that he wasn't going to stand down for anything.

Harry had twisted about enough that he could see Snape's face, and the understanding in the man's eyes startled him. _What was Snape remembering_?

"What was this all about, Mr. Potter?"

Harry saw Horace stiffen, then gather himself to attack.

"It's a private matter, professor," Harry said quickly, before twisting to look at Slughorn. "Do you promise not to tell anyone, professor Slughorn?"

"Promise-!" for a split second Slughorn looked like he was about to explode, then understanding dawned. "Maybe," he answered guardedly. For a moment he seemed to war within, glancing at Snape, measuring this distance...calculating. His hand trembled ever so slightly, and in that moment Harry knew what they all knew - Slughorn was in no condition to take on Snape.

Horace straightened as though an idea had to come to him, then he looked between the two. "Do you know what an unbreakable vow is, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head, lying through his teeth. Just because he sometimes tried to tune Hermione out didn't mean that he wasn't learning lots and lots of things. "The name seems a little obvious - I assume there are consequences for breaking a vow?"

"Very _serious_ consequences, mister Potter," Snape said darkly. "The vow is bound by magic, and if broken, your magic abandons you. For a wizard or witch...this means death."

Paling would have been the right response, Harry reflected inwardly, but he wasn't sure how to fake that, especially with all the blood rushing to his head. Instead, he nodded. "I-I understand, professor. I'll do it."

"Very well," Slughorn said gruffly, seeming to get his wind back. "You and I will both swear to put this behind us and never speak of it again."

"Unless it would mean an innocent person's death or _physical_ harm, sir," Harry said quickly. "I mean, I can't think of any scenario that could come to pass, but it would be better just in case, yes? Surely that's not too much."

The expression on Slughorn's face said that it was in fact _very too much_, but he couldn't say it in front of Snape.

"Of course," he managed, then glanced at Snape. "Would you be the binder, Severus?"

Snape nodded, a flick of his wand ending Horace's charm, allowing Harry to painfully crash to the ground.

"Ouch." Harry rubbed his hip, but scrambled to his feet, a little woozy as he re-oriented. Severus looked at him gravely.

"An unbreakable vow is not a small thing, mister Potter," he warned. "Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

"It's not a small thing between me and professor Slughorn," Harry answered grimly. "It's worth doing."

"Very well." Snape turned to Slughorn. "Horace, what should the wording be?"

Slughorn gave Harry a withering stare. "That neither of us will speak of what happened between us in this room today, unless doing so should result in someone's harm."

"Is this acceptable, mister Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head. "I'd like to adjust it a tad - how about that neither of us will speak of what happened between us in this room today, unless keeping silent should result in an _innocent _person being physically harmed?"

For a moment Slughorn studied Harry, then nodded. "Very well."

"Mister Potter, grasp Slughorn's arm, just above the wrist."

They did so, and Severus whispered the spell, his wrist over their joined arms. White gold threads of magic appeared, a lattice work around their hands.

"Mister Potter, do you vow to never speak of what happened between you and Horace Slughorn in this classroom today, unless keeping silent should result in an innocent person being physically harmed?"

"I vow it," Harry said, meaning every word. Horace ever so slightly relaxed.

"Horace Slughorn, do you vow to never speak of what happened between you and Harry Potter in this classroom today, unless keeping silent should result in an innocent person being physically harmed?"

"I vow it."

With a flash of magic, the vow was sealed, and Harry stepped back, nodding to himself before surveying the room. "Thank you, professor Snape. Professor Slughorn, do you want help repairing your room?"

"Get out!" Slughorn snapped. "I've had enough of you!"

"Yessir."

Harry picked up his wand and headed for the door. He had taken three steps when he felt his magic flare slightly. Behind him, there was a rustle and a tinkling as broken trinkets, shelves, and wall began to reassemble themselves.

Once outside the door, Harry felt a firm hand on his shoulder. "Mister Potter."

Twisting away, Harry faced Snape. "Yes, professor?"

"I have no doubt that you just did something _extremely_ gryffindor just now," Snape scowled. "That was very, very foolish. I dare say that professor Slughorn was about to harm you, kill you, or wipe your memory. I trust you have learned from your rashness?"

"I think so," Harry said after a split second of thought. "Professor?"

"_What_, mister Potter?"

Harry scratched at his neck. "Does the unbreakable vow mess with your magic for a bit? Unsettle it or something?"

Snape's face, as usual, was impassive. "What happened?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I just felt a weird surge as we were walking out."

"Good night, mister Potter." Without a word, Snape moved off, his robe swirling behind him.

"What about my question?" Harry called after him, but Snape did not slow, disappearing around a corner.

"Weird." Harry shrugged, then headed for his dorms.

Ron was snoring when he arrived, but Neville was still up, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking worried.

"Is everything ok, Harry?"

"Well, no...but that's not unusual. Why do you ask?" Harry answered, changing clothes quickly for bed.

"Ron was staying up waiting for you. He seemed really concerned."

"Oh." Harry paused, surprised, then shrugged and climbed into bed. He grinned at Neville. "You seem to be doing better after the department of mysteries."

"Yeah." Neville brightened. "I'm feeling better - in fact, better than I did before it. Maybe surviving something like that gives you guts."

Harry said nothing, feeling his stomach drop. Neville immediately recognized it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry! I forgot - just for that moment, you know, and-"

"Don't worry about it, Neville," Harry said, forcing a smile. "I miss him, but I know you didn't mean it. I'm just tired of losing people. It's time to take the war to the Death Eaters, instead of waiting and hoping they go away."

Neville stared. "It almost sounds like you're going to do something about it."

"I am," Harry spat. "I'm done waiting."

"Gryffindors charge?" Neville volunteered with a small smile.

"Not this time," Harry shook his head. "With luck, that's worked for survival. But not for everyone. We've got to put them down. Not just Voldemort. Bellatrix. The others."

"You have a plan?"

Harry looked up, surprised. "You realized I wasn't just venting," he said slowly. "Not a completed plan...yet."

"Well count me in," Neville said, a new hint of steel to his voice. "I want Bellatrix."

Harry grinned in challenge. "She's mine."

"No, she's mine."

"Split her if we can?" Harry offered. Neville shrugged. "That'll work."

"Ok."

Harry pulled the covers up, then extinguished the light.

"How'd it go last night, Harry?" Hermione asked, sliding into the bench and tucking her satchel of books underneath. Another book she took from under her arm, setting it in front of her plate.

"Not great," Harry admitted. "But I don't have to schmooze Slughorn after all - the Dark Lord only has seven horcruxes."

Hermione, Ron, and Neville stared. Hermione naturally found her voice first. "Harry!" she whispered fiercely. "_How_ did that happen? You don't expect me to believe-"

Harry cut her off, something he never did. "I'm not going to lie to you, but I also can't tell you what happened."

"Can't, or won't?" Hermione snapped.

"Can't, actually." Harry admitted. "I'm magically bound not to."

The stunned silence was palpable, and Harry half turned as a Hogwarts elf appeared. "Excuse me, mister potter sir."

"Yes?"

"Headmaster says for you to stay in the great hall to receive your new curriculum. You understand?"

"I do, and thank you," Harry nodded, taking a deep breath. The elf popped away, and Ron beat Hermione to the punch, albeit the wrong one.

"Harry, it was like you knew that elf was about appear!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "That's the point! Harry, why would you make a magically binding contract?"

"He just said he can't talk about it, Hermione," Neville said mildly. "We don't want to force him into losing his magic. Let's move on - say to this: what is a horcrux?"

Hermione filled Neville in, then Harry turned to Ron. "Ron, you're the strategist in this group. How _would_ you handle the Dark Lord and his players?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Thanks, Harry - but I'm not sure how much help I can be. Chess has so many rules - a board that all the pieces are confined to, specific movements for each piece, and equal numbers at the start, not to mention taking turns. None of that applies."

Neville nodded. "If the chess board was like this war, we'd have a lot more pieces, but mostly pawns. And the dark lord can field his pieces at will across the board. So maybe we should drop the chess analogy."

"I don't know," Hermione said thoughtfully, suddenly more interested in chess than she had ever been. "It does highlight the challenges we're having with fighting him."

"You'd think things would be going a little bit better now that the ministry is getting involved," Ron remarked, grabbing for another roll.

"That's no surprise," Neville spoke up. "Gran has been venting about the roadblocks in the Wizengamot. Fudge has been no help - he's more focused on trying to deflect blame than actually tracking the death eaters down."

"Why on earth would he do that?" Harry growled. "He should own up and then start making up for it by tracking them down. Some victories would help him in the long run."

"And losses would make him look even worse," Hermione put in. "Think about it - he's very passive. He was backed by Lucius and I'm sure he wants that association to go away."

"Yes, but don't forget there's a large contingent of pure bloods who are holding things up," Neville reminded them. "They're not all death eaters, but to give the wizengamot the access they need to investigate people means likely uncovering unrelated illegal activities."

"So self interest is once again allowing this monster to wreck havoc," Harry growled, frustration building. "We've got to reform that, too."

Hermione practically glowed. "The pure bloods have a stranglehold on power. We need equal rights for half bloods, centaurs, goblins, house elves…"

"Agreed," Harry said, turning to Neville. "Neville, if we did remove the death eaters from the Wizengamot, could we break their majority?"

Neville counted for a bit, then shook his head. "You'd still not have enough, Harry. We'd either need some new noble seats, or to somehow convince some of the dark or grey to change sides."

Harry grinned wolfishly. "You and Hermione work on that - study up on how to establish new noble houses, and how people got leverage to get past nobles to vote against their typical self-interests."

Ron shivered. "That's very Slytherin of you, Harry."

"I know."

"We could get another vote right away, Harry," Neville volunteered.

"What? How?" Hermione practically demanded.

"Harry could claim his seat in the Wizengamot once he turns of age," Neville pointed out.

"Me? I'm no politician!" Harry's predatory feelings had abruptly disappeared.

Neville chuckled, turning to Hermione. "Goodness, Hermione, but Harry is so right - self interest is holding up so much _good_ in the world."

Hermione and Ron burst into laughter, and Harry glared at them for a moment before the amusement caught up to him. "Fine," he laughed. "I guess I'll take up my seat. Then I can vote however we need."

"More than that, Harry," Neville contradicted. "You can do so much more if you learn how to politick - learn how to persuade, not just vote and be a firebrand."

"The world needs a firebrand!" Harry disagreed.

"Sure, but fire spreads and is very intimidating. You've _got_ to show people that it's under control, or else you'll accomplish nothing after we take down the dark lord." Neville held up his stand, forestalling Harry's protest. "I know people should believe the best and also not allow themselves to be intimidated - but the fact is that they're _going to_. So instead of operating according to what _should be_, you need to operate according to _what is_."

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Hermione quoted.

"Fine." Harry repeated. "I'll learn to politck. Can your gran teach me, Neville?"

"She'd be thrilled to, Harry - you can join me for my lessons."

"Thanks," Harry said with resignation. He glanced around the table. "Don't anyone ever say I didn't sacrifice for the cause."

Another laugh went around the group, and they finished their meal shortly thereafter, the others heading to their classes, Hermione exacting a promise from Harry to tell her everything Dumbledore taught him.

Before too long the hall was vacated, and Dumbledore and professor Flitwick approached.

"Professor Flitwick?" Harry said in surprise. "Don't you have class?"

Flitwick gestured to his neck, around which hung a familiar device. "If we allow promising students time turners in order to take more classes, why wouldn't we allow teachers time turners to teach promising students?"

"That makes sense," Harry nodded. "Quick question - why can't we just take one of those things and go back in time to kill the dark lord?"

"The short answer, Harry, is that it doesn't work," Dumbeldore said. "Tom is not the first dark lord, and since the time turner's invention there have been a number of people who attempted what you have proposed."

"What happened?" Harry asked, curious.

"We don't particularly know the _why_, but we do know the effect. Two died in horrific magical accidents that come the closest to resembling a splinching but on a grand level. Others just vanished, and aside from the documentation of what they attempted to remind others of their existence, they were forgotten."

"Why?"

"As I said, Harry - we do not know. We can tamper with time slightly, but that is it. It is a powerful thing, if not the most powerful thing. What you and miss Granger did for buckbeak was the most dangerous situation the two of you have ever been in."

Harry shivered for obvious reasons, then shook it off. "Ok, no time travel," he said. "What are we learning today? Duelling?"

"Quite right, mister Potter!" Flitwick smiled. "The headmaster approached me to train you. This is going to be a long process, but if you're dedicated, then you'll advance very quickly."

"And the reason I am here, Harry, is because you'll be learning a new technique not many wizards or witches are gifted enough to do: magical sensing."

"That's what it is?" Harry nodded. "I was starting to wonder if I was crazy."

"You're not. You sensed my magic unlocking the door to allow professor McGonagall to enter my office, and I daresay you sensed the curse that is afflicting me."

"I did," Harry affirmed. "I think it happened again when the house elf came to tell me to stay after to meet with you both."

"Really!" Flitwick grinned up at Dumbledore. "That's remarkable."

"And it will be a great help to you, Harry," Dumbeldore said. "Professor Flitwick, if you could take it away…"

The half goblin stepped forward, shoving a parchment at Harry. "This is your exercise regime, Harry. For all my skill, I attribute seventy-five percent of the reason for my wins on the duelling circuit to the fitness and conditioning I achieved. If you are not faithful to this schedule, then I will not train you."

"I understand, professor," Harry said earnestly.

"Before I start making you run laps, though, you're going to learn the first key to being a dueler - chaining and silent casting."

"I can silent cast a little bit," Harry offered.

"So I know - and you can get much better," Flitwick answered. "The concept behind chaining spells is that varying wand movements naturally set up another, much like language - the end of one word can be the beginning of another. But with dueling, you can use the same single wand movement to both end one spell and start the next, instead of repeating it twice."

"Woah." Harry's mind was spinning as the implications set in.

"Exactly," Flitwick smiled. "There's some different chain combinations that exist. My preferred set involves a combination of charms and transfiguration. The charms are for offense, and half of the transfiguration spells are as well - but the ability to slip in a transfiguration to absorb an unshieldable spell is quite handy."

"Like the avada kedavra," Harry volunteered.

"Very good, Harry," Flitwick smiled. "Wand out! Here's the first chain. You're going to learn the order, and once you can repeat it back to me with confidence, I want you to get started on your laps, repeating the sequence in your head."

"Yessir."

Forty minutes later, a sweaty and trembling Harry Potter dropped to all fours and vomited on the floor of the great hall. He barely noticed the house elf pop in to clean up the mess, then he felt Dumbledore approaching.

"Drink this, Harry," Dumbeldore said, crouching down and offering a potion up with his good hand. "It'll help with the muscle fatigue."

Harry managed to gulp it down, amazed as magic coursed through body, washing away the nausea and soreness. A minute later he pushed himself back to his feet, glancing down at his hands.

"Amazing." He grinned at Flitwick and Dumbeldore. "Magic is so _cool_."

"Indeed." Flitwick snapped a stinger at Harry's backside. "Run."

Harry groaned and took off again.


	6. Chapter 6

"I call this meeting of the order of Phoenix to order," Dumbledore said gravely. A hush fell across the room, and Harry glanced around, uncomfortable under the gaze of many sets of eyes. He was the newbie to the group, but also potentially their only hope. It was a miserable weight on his mind.

"As you can see, young Mr. Potter has been invited to officially join the group. While we would normally wait on recruiting one so young in order to protect his childhood from the dangers of war, Mr. Potter's childhood was ruined from the outset and he is still the main target. He would prefer to face these challenges head on in hopes of securing a normal and happy adulthood."

"For me, and for all of us," Harry put in, earning a huff of disapproval from Molly Weasley for interrupting the headmaster.

"Good for you, boy!" Alastor boomed from the corner. "Best to keep the battle in front of you."

A number of others voiced their encouragement before being stilled by Dumbledore clearing his throat. "Now then, to business. As you all know, either by being part of the battle in the department of mysteries or seeing it in the _Prophet_, he who should not be named has made his public appearance."

"And did the _Prophet_ or Fudge apologize for dragging you or Potter through the mud all this time?" Shacklebolt growled. "Not a word from them."

"While an apology would be nice, we must look at the positive," Dumbledore reminded everyone. "The ministry is now in on the fight."

Moody's snort was audible to all. "They're as useful as a cauldron with a hole in the bottom," he snapped. "Only a handful able to take on the dark lord's minions!"

"All trained by you, sir," Tonks reminded him.

"I see Auror Moody's point, though," Harry spoke up. "What good is the ministry acknowledging our enemy's existence if they can't or won't do anything about it?"

"At least they're no longer targeting us, Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke up. "So they're not slowing us down."

"How about helping?" Harry asked.

"It's proven rather…_difficult_ to get time with Minister Fudge," Dumbeldore responded.

"You're the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot!" Harry snorted. "How does he get to avoid you?"

"That's just a fancy title that means I get to run the meetings, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "Now, the dark lord has increased his hit and run attacks. They've been very effective, keeping the aurors jumping all over England trying to stop them. They're getting worn out without the chance to engage in combat."

"Is there a pattern to the attacks?" Emeline Vance piped up. "Something we could predict?"

"Not that we can tell," Tonks replied. "We keep changing our patrols, hoping that eventually they'll land somewhere close, but so far no luck."

"Let me guess," Harry growled, "some of the places the aurors have been protecting were attacked after they were drawn away to attend to a hit and run?"

Tonks blinked, surprised. "A few times, yes."

Harry sat back. "You've got a mole. Probably more than one."

The gasp at his impudence was overridden by Moody's guffaw. "I like you, Potter!"

"What's your plan?" Harry asked.

"Madam Bones is changing up the members on patrol, using the process of leaks to determine who the mole is," Kingsley said gravely. "It is tedious, but we need a solid case before we can arrest an auror and try them."

"Why not have a look at everyone's arm?" Harry asked, trying to keep his tone innocent instead of angry.

"It's originally a pureblood rights protection," Kingsley said, "but was extended to all wizards and witches some years ago. It was a rare victory for half bloods."

Harry was willing to bet ten galleons that Malfoy had exchanged that bill for a lot of good favors.

"Professor Babbling and I are working on a rune system as an advanced warning and marking system for the wizarding communities," Dumbeldore volunteered.

"Really? That's remarkable, professor!" Molly stated, along with the murmurs of others. Harry was also impressed.

"That's awesome! When do you think it'll be ready?"

"In three to four months if we're lucky," Dumbledore answered. "And then we have to get the Wizengamot to pass it."

"I might be able to pull a few strings," Mr. Weasley volunteered.

Harry sat back, disgruntled, as the group fell into a discussion of how to get the votes to allow the rune system to be put into play. An hour passed, and he removed himself from the table, helping himself to the pile of sandwiches that Molly had prepared for the meeting. Tonks joined him.

"Welcome to the Order, Harry," she said with a forced smile.

"Bugger me," Harry replied quietly, glancing over at the throng. "Is it always this useless?"

"It's the best we've got," she replied quietly, glancing up as Moody hobbled over.

"What do you think, Harry?"

Harry checked to make sure nobody was near, then lowered his voice. "Auror Moody, can you make sure we can't be overheard? Preferably without Dumbledore knowing?"

"I'm afraid I can't, Harry," Moody said more quietly. "Dumbledore would sense it and be curious."

"Blast." Harry glanced around, then spoke quickly and softly. "Draco Malfoy is a death eater. I imperiused him. The dark lord has about thirty death eaters total, and we've got eleven of them in Azkaban. We know this: he's got to break them out at some point. We also know he's got some on the inside of the ministry. And we can safely assume he'll target the few competent ministry people that are working against him."

"That's where we should focus our people," Tonks agreed.

Moody's eye spun as he checked to see if anyone seemed to be listening in. "Done playing by the rules, are you Potter? About time, I say. Madame Bones will be the first one targeted. I can take a few aurors that I know are trustworthy and we can shadow her as bodyguards until the attack comes. Unless all the death eaters show up with Voldemort, we should be able to hold out til the Order arrives."

"And Azkaban?" Harry asked.

"Harry, I don't think the dark lord could get near the place without all the advance wards going off. Unless the dementors show up too, Azkaban will also be able to hold out till help arrives."

Harry nodded. "What about the moles?"

"Once things get bad enough, we might be able to convince Fudge to let us be thorough," Tonks admitted.

"We can't wait that long!" Harry whispered urgently. "How many more people will die? How many more purebloods will be cowed and more likely to join him? Time is on the dark lord's side. Surely Fudge can see that."

"Fudge can't see further than his next election, boy," Moody said bitterly. "Why do you think he threw you and Dumbledore under the Knight's bus? Why do you think he avoids you now? Both of you have power and influence, and he doesn't want it to be used against him."

Harry straightened, an idea flashing to his mind. "But what if I offer to support him?" he said slowly.

"Support that slimy-"

"Wait, Nymph-erm, Tonks," Moody cut her off.

"What if I go to Fudge and offer to tell the story that he deliberately pretended to disbelieve me in order to draw out the dark lord?" Harry wondered aloud. "He was trying to set a trap, which unfortunately didn't work. That story would give him a way out."

"That's very good, Harryr," Dumbledore said, and Harry turned, realizing that everyone was now listening. "You might have a mind for the political game after all."

Mr. Weasley stood, obviously thinking. "If Harry was emancipated by Fudge, he could claim his seat. That would be a powerful statement, and give us a much needed vote in the Wizengamot."

"What people need right now is hope," McGonagall chimed in, eyes bright as she looked at Harry. "What better way than for House Potter to rise from the ashes during Voldemort's return?"

"Let's do it," Harry said aloud, looking around the room. "Let's reach out to Fudge and tell him our plan. He can let the story get out and the _Prophet_ can do some good for once; then we can have my emancipation ceremony somewhere outside of the ministry."

Dumbledore frowned. "It hardly needs to be a spectacle, Harry. A few forms is all that's needed."

"A ceremony that makes Fudge look good gets us more in the long run," Harry answered. "The ceremony, if done outside the ministry, would serve as a good place to set a trap, too."

For a split second everyone was quiet, then the room exploded into conversation as everyone began discussing the possibilities and methods they might use. Dumbledore was able to quiet everyone with a magical bang.

"Harry, while a noble idea, it puts you and others at risk."

"It doesn't have to be public," Harry said, "just not in the ministry. What if we did it at my family's old home? We could use that for the symbolism, and as an excuse to keep the public away? We could spend a few days in advance to set up traps."

"We could cast a couple anti-apparition wards, then capture a few more of the dark lord's followers," Moody warmed to the idea.

"What if Vold- he who must not be named shows up with _all_ his forces?" Vance asked. "Could we beat them?"

"If Dumbeldore is there, we can take him," Tonks said confidently. "How about it, headmaster. Want to help us ambush them?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly, pain in his eyes. "I appreciate your ongoing confidence in me, young Nymphadora. It can be a frightening thing to have to live up to one's own legend. But I agree."

"Headmaster, what cover story shall we put out to excuse your absence from a Potter event?" Minerva asked. "You are his guardian, after all."

"What about an ICW event?" Mr. Weasley spoke up. "You could be going to them to request help for dealing with the dark lord. If we announce that now, it would be reasonable why you would skip Harry's press conference."

More people started talking excitedly, and Harry edged away after a bit, shooting a long look to Moody and Tonks. Soon they joined him again.

"I've got some extra ideas," he said quietly. "Is there a safe way for us to meet without being overheard?"

Moody chuckled. "That shouldn't be too hard, Potter. Nymphadora and I are one of the teams set to watch over and protect you."

Harry grinned. "Isn't that convenient."

Draco Malfoy arrived at Knockturn Alley, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, per usual. The duo had gotten taller and broader, but not much more intelligent. Draco reflected on the now obvious disservice that had been done both to them and in turn to him, in that they were not expected to think for themselves. It had stroked his ego for many years, but now he found himself envious of others with more competent friends. Harry Potter was lucky to have the brainy mudblood; and Ron, for all his incompetence, was a better and smarter friend than either Crabbe or Goyle.

Borgin and Burkes was as musty and dark as ever. Mr. Borgin scowled as they entered, and Malfoy nodded to the others. "Watch the door."

They nodded and then he approached the desk alone. "I'm still having problems," he muttered.

Borgin spread his hands in irritation. "It'd be a sight easier for you to just bring the vanishing cabinet here, heir Malfoy," he grumbled. "Ever heard the question, 'Why hire it out when we can spend more time and money doing it ourselves to achieve a lesser job?'"

"I _can't_," Draco snarled. "I _can't_ move it; and I _can't_ bring you to it. You think I wouldn't rather push you a pile of galleons and get it done as quickly as possible?"

"Fine," Borgin nodded. "What's the issue?"

Draco unfolded a paper. "Here's a rubbing I took of the runes and the broken pieces. Any thoughts of how to repair it?"

"A rubbing, eh?" Borgin peered at it. "That was smart. A lot better than those chicken scratches you brought in."

"I'm learning," Malfoy grumbled, waiting a full minute as Borgin pored over the runes. "Well?"

"This is going to take time, young Malfoy," Borgin muttered, looking up. "Rune specialists are rare enough from Hogwarts, and I'm not even a graduate. I can figure it out with the help of a couple books, but it'll take me a couple days. I'll owl you with the instructions I figure out."

"No owls," Draco said abruptly.

Borgin scowled. "What about an owl to let you know your order is ready? Then you can come by and get your instructions."

"That's fine," Draco muttered, heading to the door. "The sooner, the better."

"I know, I know," Borgin turned to grab a couple of rune books from under the counter, and Draco exited the building.

"Let's go," he said to the Crabbe and Goyle. Next on his list was to visit Madam Malkins for some new robes for the next year. Some new styles from France were unfortunately catching on throughout the wizarding world, so the ones that had already been made would need to be repl-

Draco pulled up abruptly as a trio of shabby wizards suddenly moved out of a narrow corridor, hefting blunted, splintering wands. "What 'ave we here?" one coughed, grinning a crooked grin at the others.

"Couple rich purebloods, looks like," another spat through missing teeth.

Draco pulled up, incredulous. "Do you know who I am? My father -" he paused, remembering that his once go-to statement was no longer a help.

"Your da' is very rich and powerful, we know," the shortest of three wizards rolled his eyes. "We need your purse. No sudden moves, now!"

For a moment Draco was tempted to go for his wand, but then realized that it wasn't worth it. He could stop for more galleons at Gringotts, provided they didn't realize the hidden magical pocket inside his robe that held the majority of his money. "Goyle, Cra-no!"

His bodyguards mistook his intention, stepping forward and pulling their wands. Immediately stunners flashed in his vision, and darkness claimed Draco before he could get his own wand out.

Tonks stared down at the trio of pure bloods, having shifted her appearance back as soon as they finished levitating Draco, Crabbe and Goyle into the narrow passage they had hidden in prior to their ambush.

Harry gagged at the taste of the antidote of the polyjuice potion, shifting uncomfortably as his body changed back. Moody took a moment longer, but was speaking quickly as he sat before toppling without his peg leg. "Notice me nots?"

"Got em," Tonks replied quickly, having already cast the spells. She stared down at Draco. "That felt good," she muttered, staring at Harry as he quickly took out two more polyjuice potions, plucking a hair from Crabbe and Goyle.

"Harry, you're bloody aggressive," she muttered, collecting the wands from the fallen three, and then searching them for money. After finding their purses, she also located Draco's hidden pocket, withdrawing his bank key and the bag, whistling as she glanced in. "Harry, check this out!"

Harry glanced in, eyes widening. "That's a lot," he agreed. "Put it back."

"Back?" Tonks repeated, confused.

"Back," Moody agreed. "That's plenty for Draco's needs for some time. The longer he goes without visiting Gringotts, the better."

Tonks reluctantly replaced the bag, then turned as Moody and Harry began to change into Draco's bodyguards. "Right, that's me," she said, transforming herself into Draco. "What do you think?"

"Stick your nose up a bit more," Harry suggested with Goyle's voice. "That's it - I want to punch you already."

"Let's move," Moody grunted, huffing a tad. "Gawd, but this kid is fat! Some muscle but no endurance at all. A three year old could beat him in a run around a quidditch pitch."

Some twenty minutes later they entered Gringotts, Tonks leading the way and approaching the back of the line.

"Cut the line," Harry growled under his breath. "Draco wouldn't wait for all these people."

Feeling like the biggest jerk in the world, Tonks swept toward a vacating desk, pointing her nose in the air and promising herself that if the people in line knew what was happening, they would be happily giving her their place.

"Wand?" The goblin growled.

"Draco Malfoy," she announced, setting Draco's wand on the counter.

"What's your business today?" the goblin asked, peering at her through spectacles.

"I want to visit my vault, and make some withdrawals and transfers," she answered.

"Very good - how much would you like to withdraw, and how much to transfer and where?"

Tonks swallowed. "I'd like to visit my vault first." She hefted the key she had taken from Draco.

The goblin nodded. "Very well. Follow me."

Ten minutes later they arrived, the damp dungeon close in the darkness. A moment later the vault opened, and the three of them entered, awed.

"This is...incredible," Harry breathed, Goyle's voice making him sound dumber than he was.

"All fueling the dark lord's war machine," Moody agreed. "Right, let me check for dark objects."

A few spells later, Moody nodded. "Right - a few cursed objects and books." Within a few minutes he had carefully gathered them and tucked them into special bags he took out of various pockets.

"That's it, Potter," he growled.

Harry nodded, feeling awkward in someone else's body. "That's it, then. Let's go, Tonks. Don't forget."

Emerging from the vault, they approached the goblin who sat waiting in the cart. "What next, then, heir Malfoy?" it asked matter of factly.

"That's head of house to you," Tonks growled imperiously. "I want a full statement on all my transfers and purchases in the last year, a thousand galleons reserved for my mother's purchases - these are for her only, even I am not allowed to touch them - and for the rest of the vault's contents and all other incoming funds to instead be transferred to the Potter vaults."

The goblin froze for a long moment, then turned and stared at Tonks suspiciously. "That is...very unusual, Mr. Malfoy."

"Don't question me, goblin!" Tonks snapped, lifting her hand as if to strike. "You have no idea what is going on with the wizarding world. Alliances...change."

"I guess so," the goblin muttered under his breath. "Very well, sir. It shall be done immediately. Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Tonks blustered.

"Very well. If that will be all…?"

"Actually," Harry spoke up with Goyle's thick voice. "I'd like to visit my vault as well."

Moody stepped forward. "Me, too."

The goblin's eyes widened. So this was what happened when young heirs lost their parents before coming of age. Pure insanity.

Some thirty minutes later, Draco felt himself being shaken. Stirring, he sat up and looked around, confused. "What…?" Memories rushed in, and he pushed himself to his feet angrily. "You blithering idiots! Why did-"

"It's our job, boss!" Goyle protested. "What were we-"

"Wait for me to tell you!" Draco snapped. He searched his pockets, then his cloak, breathing a sigh of relief. "They got my loose galleons, but not my pouch or bank key."

"Me too," Crabbe muttered, looking crestfallen. "I was gonna order some new robes, myself." He glanced at Draco pleadingly.

"Not a chance," Draco growled, leading the way out of the alley in a huff. He glanced both ways, glad nobody had stumbled upon them. When he got home, he would get memories of the three wizards and turn them over to the aurors so the search could begin. Eventually he would get his revenge, and it would give the aurors one extra thing to do.

For a moment he considered sharing the idea with the dark lord, then dismissed it. Better for nobody to know that they had been taken down by a trio of common thugs.

Crabbe and Goyle were in full agreement. Nobody wanted to be on Voldemort's bad side.

"This is a treasure trove," Hermione muttered, looking through the Malfoy documents that Harry had had Gringotts owl to him. It had taken almost a dozen owls. "Payments of galleons to France, Russia, Switzerland! How are we ever going to figure out which ones are typical Malfoy business and which ones are going toward the Pureblood war effort?"

Harry grinned. "You'll figure it out, Hermione. Smartest witch of our age, right?"

She flushed slightly, but nodded. "I'll figure it out, Harry. There should be a predictable pattern to Malfoy business payments - once I eliminate those, the odd expenditures should start yielding valuable intelligence."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Hermione. I know this isn't how you'd choose to go about things, but…"

"How many more people are going to die?" she cut him off. "We can put this money to good use."

Harry nodded. "Also, it wasn't just galleons in there, obviously. We found some old and rare books. Moody took the ones that were cursed, but...well, you might as well have the rest."

"Harry!" Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but grin. "You - you -"

"Have to get to dueling practice," Harry said quickly, fleeing the room.

Once outside, he found Neville waiting for him. "Harry, got that letter and form ready. Gran looked them over and everything looks right."

Harry gave them a read through, then nodded. "Got a quill?"

Neville hoisted one, complete with an inkwell. "Here you go."

With a flourish, Harry signed both documents. Setting down the quill, he withdrew his wand and raised it in the air, clasping Neville's arm above the wrist as his friend did likewise. "I, Harry Potter and head of House Potter, do swear to an alliance with House Longbottom. We will defend each other's interests, and do business first with each other at all times. So mote may it be."

Neville repeated the words, and a flash of magic ignited in the air, Harry feeling as well as seeing it.

Neville grinned, relieved. "Well that's that," he said. "A real alliance between houses! This is exciting, Harry."

"Yeah it is," Harry agreed. "Can you send this letter via Hedwig? And bring her some bacon for the job."

"Sure thing, Harry," Neville said, picking up both pieces of parchment. He was heading for the door when Harry called out.

"Neville?"

Neville turned, surprised to see Harry looking a tad pensive. "Yeah?"

"Not to cast a shadow over a bright moment, but...did Ollivander give you that wand?"

Neville's face fell. "Uh, no, not exactly. It's my dad's wand. Gran wanted me to use it to honor him."

"Oh." Harry hesitated. "Neville, not to dishonor your dad, or your Gran - but I've got a funny feeling you should get your own wand. I bet Ollivander's disappointed you never stopped by. He was expecting me right before first year."

"But Gran would…" Neville trailed off, and Harry cut him off.

"Sorry - I don't mean to cause problems. It was just a feeling."

He shrugged and headed to the doors through which Dumbledore and Flitwick were waiting to run the hell out of him. Neville headed slowly to the tower, warring within. An elf brought the bacon for Hedwig, and as his second letter took off via a large barn owl, Neville's hands curled into fists.

"Am I the head of house now, or not?" he said to himself. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with just looking."

Cornelius Fudge was having an awful day. The public was breathing down his neck for news and positive updates regarding the war with he-who-must-not-be-named, and none of it was good. They had lost another auror during a hit and run, and two mixed-lineage wizarding families had been killed, the mudblood spouse and halfblood children tortured to death. It was a clear message, and one he definitely didn't want to get out.

"Sir, a letter for you!" Percy Weasley stepped into the room.

"Yes, yes, add it to the pile," Fudge grumbled.

"Minister, you might want to take a closer look at this one," Percy said with more energy than usual.

Tearing his eyes away from his reports, Fudge grabbed the letter, then hesitated as his read the name. "Potter?" he looked up at Percy. "You don't think he's lawyered up, do you?"

"He's been spending more time with the Longbottoms, sir," Percy reported.

"Has he?"

Grabbing a letter opener, Fudge extracted the document, then read through it quickly, leaning back and tapping his jaw as he thought. "Most interesting. Fascinating, in fact." He handed the letter over to Percy. "Read it and tell me what you think."

Percy quickly read the letter, eyes widening halfway through. When finished, he glanced up. "I - I don't know, sir. Harry has always seemed to be the shoot-them-straight kid. To knowingly advance a lie doesn't seem his style."

"That's been my initial impression of him as well," Fudge mused. "But then again, war causes strange bedfellows. Maybe he's recognizing the benefits of working together." Fudge considered the letter for another long moment before setting it aside again. "I'll have to give this more thought."

"Heir Potter is requesting a response within four days, sir," Percy helpfully reminded Fudge.

"So long as I don't outright refuse, I can always say yes later," Fudge said with all the experience of a politician. "If it fell through the cracks and I didn't see it till later, is that my fault?"

Percy was about to reply when the head of magical records popped in. "Minister!" she said excitedly. "Some news you'll want to see!"

"Some good news, I hope," Fudge said hopefully. "Or even neutral news. Did someone bewitch a herd of pigs to fly again? While the obliviators hate it, it always makes a good story when the muggles go nuts. I don't understand their fascination with it."

"Bigger than that, sir," Reca smiled. "Two things: first, Dumbledore emancipated Harry Potter and he's officially the head of house Potter now. And secondly, this just got delivered."

She placed the contract on the table, and Fudge straightened. "An official alliance between the Potters and Longbottoms?"

"I checked it, sir - magic confirms the oath was sworn. I did more digging. Apparently heir Longbottom is now also the head of his house."

While the news normally would have been welcome to a minister who tired of opposing Lady Longbottom in her role as regent, it seemed his daydream of a young, timid and easily impressionable Neville taking over at her death was not to be realized. The boy had already formed a magical alliance.

"Thank you, Reca," Fudge said. "I appreciate all you do to keep me in the loop."

She nodded and ducked out the door, and Fudge picked up a blank parchment, clearing room so he could write well. "I've changed my mind, Percy," he said imperiously. "I think I shall respond to young Potter's letter now."


	7. Chapter 7

"Very good, Harry!" Flitwick shouted, beaming from his spot. The professor had the slightest sheen on his forehead, while Harry was bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping and sodden, dripping sweat from his face and even his shirt.

He hadn't felt so good in months.

"Your chaining has gotten exceptionally good," Flitwick commended him. "Your power has increased, and your agility more so."

From the sidelines, Moody snorted. "Runnin' all over the place...Harry, have you ever seen a muggle fight?"

Harry nodded, thinking. "Like boxing?"

"That's the one - strange name they chose for it," Moody grumped. "Almost always someone chooses to be the aggressor, and while that can change in a fight, statistically, the aggressor wins more often than the defender."

Harry pushed himself upright, thankful that the stitch in his side was fading. "Element of surprise, I know," he repeated. "Constant vigilance."

"That's not my point, kid," Moody replied, "Nobody in those fights has the element of surprise. Aggression is part of it, but the other part was simply that the aggressor had to move less. If his opponent takes a full step to the right, he only has to take a partial step. In a game of endurance and conditioning, every little bit counts."

Harry squinted at the two. "That's not so encouraging," he admitted. "You're basically saying I'm taking the losing strategy."

"Not at all, Harry!" Flitwick countered. "Your fights will most certainly not be in a box. Your conditioning will be better than most anyone you face - now you need to start learning to force them to move as much as you."

Harry glanced toward the door, and a moment later it opened to allow Dumbeldore in. The aged wizard was slowing ever more as the curse on his arm affected more and more of his body. "Headmaster."

"Hello, Harry," Dumbeldore said, voice tired but still with enthusiasm. "Your magical sensing is improving."

"I'll say!" Flitwick grinned. "Moody shot a spell at him from behind and he ducked it!"

"Got him with the follow up spells," Moody grunted.

"Oh no, I went down to a sneak attack by the feared Mad-Eye Moody while _also_ dueling the multi-circuit champion Flitwick!" Harry said dryly, a grin on his face. "Nobody's going to fault me for that. I know, I know," he amended, "the death eaters won't fight fair. I'm going to keep getting better - I'm just glad to see this kind of progress. So how do I force a more experienced fighter to move as much as I do?"

"Transfiguration," Dumbledore said, moving onto the floor. "Transfiguring objects to attack your opponent can distract them and give you an opening. Even if they put down the conjuration before it causes harm, it can force them to move."

Harry grinned and turned to Flitwick. "New curse chains to learn, I guess?"

Flitwick bowed. "I would be honored, but we thought it prudent for you to learn from the best: the Headmaster."

"Really?" Harry's jaw hung for a moment, then he snapped it closed. "Headmaster, I…"

"Think nothing of it, Harry," Dumbledore deflected the gratitude Harry was clearly grasping for. "I trust you will not share this with other students? It would take up precious time if I was being bombarded with angry parents about favoritism."

"Of course, headmaster," Harry said quickly. "Where do we start? Memorizing chains?"

"It's not quite as easy as charms - no offense, Filius," Dumbledore said, while the half-goblin waved him off. "Charms allow for creativity and subjectivity. Do you remember when young Ronald attempted to transfigure a certain rat into a goblet?"

"It was furry and had a tail," Harry recalled. "It was an incomplete transfiguration."

"That's right," Dumbledore agreed. "There are certainly go-to transfiguration spells for dueling, primarily because their wand movements are the beginning or end of other spells. However, people have different experiences with different things, and that experience shapes the easiest transfigurations for them to learn. For example, who do you think could transfigure a better hippogriff: Hagrid, or Charlie Weasley?"

"Hagrid, because he's had a hippogriff," Harry realized.

"And a better dragon?"

"Charlie, because he works with them - though Hagrid tried."

"Very good, Harry. So let's work on figuring out some good transfigurations for you. We'll need a range of options particularly in size, so that you don't have to worry so much on trying to stretch a smaller object into a large one."

"Like a footstool into a hippogriff," Harry offered.

"Quite." Dumbledore nodded. "Any ideas?"

"Well, Sirius was a grim in his animagus form..." Harry considered. "I know he'd be delighted to be one of my attack transfigurations."

"Excellent, my boy!" Dumbledore beamed. "Let's work on the incantation...

Harry and Hermione glanced up from the table as Neville entered the room. "What's the news, Neville?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"There's not much available in the way of help," Neville said shortly, sitting down. "That was a great idea, Hermione. All the people reaching out to befriend me as the new head of house made it easy to ask lots of questions. The short version is that most countries' wizarding governments are primarily focused on keeping us secret from the muggles, and the nobles bickering and trying to one up each other. Until Volde - he who must not be named conquers magical England and officially establishes himself as a threat, they're not likely to help."

"Too busy trying to advance themselves," Harry said bitterly. "Fine."

"How could they do that!" Hermione was indignant. "Don't they know he'll come for them next?"

"_We_ don't know that, Hermione," Harry said. "People don't tend to take action on things until it becomes too comfortable for them not to." He held up his hands. "Look at us, even. We've been mostly reactive to everything the dark lord has done. It took losing Sirius to get me on the offensive - and I hate myself for it."

"Don't hate yourself, Harry," Hermione replied. "The adults were supposed to handle this a long time ago. It wasn't wrong for us to look to them to do so."

"She's right, Harry," Neville added. "It's not wrong to have a childhood - or to try having one."

Harry shook himself as emotions tried to seize control. Taking a deep breath, then slowly releasing it, he smiled at the others, eyes misty. "Thanks, guys."

"No problem, Harry," Neville grinned, clapping him on the back. "Where are we?"

"You should see what Hermione put together!," Harry grinned, pulling out a huge parchment. "Check out these charts!"

Neville blanched at the rows and columns. "When did you make this, Hermione! It had to take hours."

"Most of the night," Hermione admitted.

"What are these columns here?" Neville asked.

"Owl flight times, and average order response times," Harry supplied. "She didn't just track down all the best and most affordable potion ingredients: Hermione figured out how to have all the orders arrive almost simultaneously. Doing it that way will keep people from knowing the demand, so we likely won't be price-gouged."

"That's brilliant, Hermione!" Neville grinned.

"I know, right?" Harry added. Hermione blushed at their praise.

"That's all well and good, but what about preparing all those potions?" she asked.

"I've got that covered," Harry answered. "I've got six potions masters contracted and on their way to England now."

Neville frowned. "We're not using Snape?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't fully trust him."

Neville shrugged. "Fair enough."

Harry's eyes caught a glint of light, and he grinned broadly. "Lord Longbottom," he said imperiously, "could it be that you've gone and got your own wand?"

Neville grinned, his excitement breaking through his reluctance to admit he had gone against his grandmother's wishes. "I did!" he said. "You were right, Harry. Ollivander was almost a little cross with me for waiting so long to come in."

"Let's see it!" Hermione said excitedly.

Neville produced the wand, a light tan color with supple waves that made it easy to visualize the branch it had been cut from. "Cedar, ten inches with unicorn hair," Neville said, flicking it. "Some flexibility."

Harry smiled. "It feels _right_," he said. "You feel it, too?"

"Already, yeah," Neville affirmed, looking fondly at the wand. "Ollivander said it was a shame I didn't start with it, since my wand would have had more time to grow used to me, but he said it would make up for lost time."

"Let's give it a run, shall we?" Harry stood and stretched, pulling his own wand out. "Let's see the difference."

"Fine, where shall _stupefy_!" Neville said, firing the spell at point blank range. Harry barely sidestepped it on instinct, his wand moving to cast his shield.

"_Protego_!"

"_Stupe-" _Neville started, only to be cut off by Hermione.

"_Depulso_!" Hermione snapped, the banishing charm tossing Neville across the room and smashing Harry's shield, sending him skidding back. For a brief moment both wizards stared as Hermione glared fiercely at them.

"Not. Near. My. Books."

The silence after her statement was pronounced, then interrupted as Harry started chuckling, which Neville eventually joined before it built up to full blown laughter. Hermione eventually joined them, a little embarrassed and simultaneously pleased with the effect of her spell.

"Blimey, Hermione," Harry grinned, channeling his inner Ron. "We should have just told you that the dark lord hated books."

"Your impromptu dueling session was endangering that chart you both admired just a moment ago!" she complained, smiling.

"Sorry about that," Harry replied.

Neville likewise apologized, then turned to Harry. "You've been training with Moody, haven't you!" he accused. "I was sure you wouldn't expect a surprise attack from _me_!"

"I didn't," Harry admitted. "I felt you starting to channel your magic for a spell before your wand was leveled."

Neville stared. "You're kidding."

Harry shrugged. "Nope."

"That's amazing, Harry!" Hermione said excitedly. "Did you know it was a stunner?"

"I - I don't think so," Harry said slowly, searching his mind. "It's not really a science."

Hermione snorted. "Since when is anything in the magical world a science?" she complained. "It's not a science _yet_. Turn around. I'm going to silent cast, and you guess what spell I use."

"Moody will kill me for turning my back on you," Harry said, complying nonetheless. He heard Hermione take a breath, then spoke. "Levitation spell."

"Harry," Hermione breathed, "I hadn't even started to cast it yet. That's _incredible_."

Harry chuckled. "Not really. I guessed it. You probably wanted to try a new spell you've been working on, but for the sake of the experiment knew it needed to be something we're both familiar with. Why wouldn't it be wingardium leh-vee-OH-sa?" he grinned, remembering when Hermione established her smarts in front of the whole class.

Turning bright red, Hermione stomped her foot unconsciously. "You - you - turn back around!" she sputtered. "That's cheating! You're ruining the experiment!"

"I'm not turning around!" Harry said, backing up a little in alarm. "You're going to use the stinging hex on me!"

"_Harry Potter!_" Hermione raged. "Predict _this_!"

This time it was Neville using a shield charm to protect himself and Hermione's books and charts.

Rita Skeeter was shuffling through papers in her office as she put together her story of the latest attack by the dark lord's followers. While a war made for lots of material and no shortage of people to lay blame with, she had to admit she was getting a little concerned. Nothing seemed to be going well, and she would prefer the fights to be balanced. A little death and tragedy for both sides would make for the best writing, but with the dark lord losing the war of attrition in the end.

Instead it was attack after attack, innocent wizards and witches dying, and the death eaters never losing a person.

A knock on the outside of her door brought her gaze up, then practically stopped her heart. _Harry Potter_ was standing there.

"Lord Potter," she finally managed, glad to see no wand in his hand - though being cursed by him would make a fabulous story. "What can I do for you?"

"Your job," Harry said bluntly.

"You have a story for me?" she asked warily. "Or are you wanting a retraction? It's too late for that-"

"I have a story for you," Harry cut in. "House Potter is rising again. I'll be moving back into the family mansion. It'll be a big, and _private_ event."

She raised her eyebrow, but Harry continued. "You're the first to know outside my circles. I tell you because as invitations go out and the rumors start circulating, I know you will trying to find everything out. I figured I'd get ahead of that."

"So you want me to write a piece now?" she asked, confused.

"The opposite." Harry stated firmly. "I know you can't help digging up what you can. My request is that you not publish anything until I say so - and in return, I'll grant you the _exclusive_ reporter spot at the actual event. If the Prophet publishes anything before I want, I'll give the reporter spot to someone from the Quibbler, and I'll tell the Prophet's editor _exactly why_ it went down that way."

"Having an event without the _Prophet _reporting on it will hardly enhance the legitimacy you're obviously wanting to achieve," Rite countered.

"I agree," Harry answered. "But answer me this: do you want to have to do the work of trying to sneak into a private event, writing a story on what scraps of information you get, and risk the consequences of being caught - or do you want the full scoop as an _invited_ reporter? And do you think your editor will be okay with settling for the scraps when you have an offered path to the best?"

Rita took a deep breath, calculating the prestige of the offer. "Fine. I'll do it, Potter," she answered.

Harry grinned. "Thanks, miss Skeeter," he said, then sauntered off.

Three nights later, Madam bones was pulled from a fitful sleep as messages began coming in of death eater attacks. For an hour she sent out orders, dispatching squads of aurors to each location. It was after five minutes of silence and her tense waiting for reports when the wards alerted her that her own home was under attack.

Cursing to herself, she cleared her mind and then focused on her favorite memory: the arrival of a Hogwarts letter for her niece little girl had screamed and then run around the house screaming even more in joy for three hours. They had celebrated with Florean Fortescue's ice cream that evening.

"_Expecto patronum_," she breathed, and a white mist sprang from her wand, forming into a jack rabbit. "Aurors, this is Amelia Bones! My home is under attack!" she said urgently but calmly, and then sent the message on its way. The rabbit bounded through the walls, and she quickly slipped into her robes before making her way to Susan's room.

"Susan, get up," Amelia said firmly, shaking the girl. Susan immediately started, eyes puffy.

"Aunt Amelia?"

"Death eaters are attacking," Amelia explained. "Let's get to the floo."

Susan nodded and rolled out of bed, grabbing her wand and a picture of her parents before following. They had established the plan some weeks previous. Reaching the parlor, Susan tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic!" she called, to no avail.

Susan deigned to comment on the dirty word that slipped from her aunt's lips. "What now?"

Amelia cast the charm to check the integrity of the wards, noticing that they were rapidly being torn down. "Susan, do you remember the cubby you used to play in under the stairs to the cellar?"

"No," Susan said with more firmness than she expected. "I'm not going to hide."

"They might not find you," Amelia countered. "They're under stress-"

"They've left no survivors at each home they've hit," Susan recalled. "They won't miss me. Whatever I can do to help, I'll do. Let's try to take some of them down."

Amelia smiled at the bravery of her niece. "Very well, Susan," she said, tears in her eyes. "I respect your choice. How's your _protego_?"

"It's ok," Susan admitted. "I don't know how it'll do against death eaters, but…"

"That'll be fine," Amelia said. "And help might yet come. Follow me."

As they went to the front of the house, Amelia gave orders. "Get to the study and wait. I'll be cursing them from the entryway. After the wards come down, they'll be focusing their attacks on me. I'll fade back to the parlor. I want you to wait till you have a clean shot at their flank. Fire a stunning spell on the one in the very back, then a severing spell at the same one. With any luck they won't notice him go down, and then you can get a clean kill. If it takes more than one severing spell, it's ok. If the opportunity presents itself, repeat the process. The moment they notice you, get to the parlor, and at that point your job is to keep a protego up."

Susan nodded nervously, and they parted ways at the entry way.

Amelia checked the ward, pleased that they had lasted this long. "Let's frustrate the bastards," she muttered, placing her hand on a ward stone, then pouring magic into it. Instantly she felt the weakening of the magical barriers begin to slow. There was a pause, then the attacks intensified, and she knew the dark robed figures had realized what she was doing.

One hand on the stone, the other holding her wand, Amelia selected a death eater on the left flank, and took careful aim. "_Confringo_!"

The blasting curse flicked through her defensive wards and almost reached the mark, a hasty _protego_ blocking it at the last moment. "_Diffindo_!"

The severing curse didn't make it either, the death eaters now alert to her defense. Disappointed but not surprised, Amelia pumped a little more energy to the wards, then was knocked backwards as they suddenly shattered, along with the windows.

_Voldemort_. The thought and despair of the realization washed through her as she picked herself up. Only Voldemort had that kind of power, and Amelia knew now she and Susan were dead.

But they weren't going to go down without a fight. Casting charms left and right, Amelia conjured six asps, sending them to the walls around the door to await her attackers. "Snakes for snakes," she muttered to herself, then transfigured the walls and doors to stone before stepping back to a window and opening fire.

Her chain was a withering mix of curses and jinxes, explosive spells and prank spells, designed to overwhelm their shields, slip by the hasty defenses, and break their ranks. A quick animation turned the tree into her front lawn into a miniature womping willow that slammed one of the death eaters off into the streets before her enchantment was removed.

A blasting curse suddenly impacted her house, cracking the now stone walls, and Amelia grimaced. Voldemort had stepped in to take down the ward, and now he was apparently stepping up to stop her defense. While it again added to her despair, Amelia was mildly amused that her walls had withstood his blasting charm. For facing the dark lord and his minions, she wasn't doing too badly.

The next blasting curse shattered the walls, spraying the room with debris, but she had already retreated, knowing the danger. Susan joined her moments later.

"Get any?" Amelia asked.

"Stunned one, but they noticed it," Susan confessed. "He was shielded and revived."

"You did well," Amelia confirmed. "Ready to shield?"

Susan nodded, brandishing her wand as Amelia enchanted the furniture to prepare to attack. For a long moment they waited, then she heard the exclamation and cries of surprise as her snakes engaged the enemy.

"_Bombarda!_" Amelia cried, firing a high powered spell through the doorway and then beginning to chain. Susan cast her protego, and then waited for the end.

Spells began puncturing the walls, then a snarling wolf darted through the doorway, almost reaching them before Amelia put it down. She wasn't the only one who could transfigure. Amelia, head of the magical law enforcement, put on a clinic as she fired spells, blocked incoming curses, and animated practically everything in the house to attack, maim, and distract her enemies.

If only Voldemort hadn't been there.

A spell Amelia didn't know shattered every piece of furniture in the home, then another blew the roof off with a howl. Bellatrix's cackle of awe broke through, and Amelia sent a rather nasty cutting curse in that direction.

Voldemort's _bombarda_ smashed Susan's shield and threw them both into the wall, knocking the wind from them, Amelia feeling something crack in her side. As the fog cleared, her senses returned, and she became aware that the death eaters were standing over them, Voldemort staring down with red eyes.

"A vain attempt at resistance, madam Bones," Voldemort rasped. "One that will not be remembered. The plan was to simply kill both of you, but since you have wasted our time…" he turned, leveling his wand at Susan. "_Cruc-"_

Voldemort trailed off, cocking his head to the side as if hearing some unseen voice, then a split second later his eyes widened. "Dumbledore!" he swore, and then they felt fresh wards snap into place.

Dumbledore's banishing charm was every bit as impressive as Voldemort's, blasting through the house at waist level and tossing most of the death eaters like rag dolls. Voldemort, Bellatrix and two masked wizards or witches remained upright, and instantly began firing spells in Dumbledore's direction.

From behind Dumbledore, counter spells and curses likewise began to fly. The order of the Phoenix had arrived in force.

"Return to the base, you fools," Voldemort snarled. "This isn't yet the fight we want."

"They have anti-apparition wards up, sir!" one of the death eaters reported.

"Use your portkey, idiot!" the other replied. The first grabbed at a necklace and muttered something, but nothing happened.

"It's a trap," Voldemort realized. "Hold off the headmaster!" he ordered, firing off a powerful curse then stepping back, his wand weaving a diagnostic charm as he checked the wards holding them in. "This one…" he muttered, as Amelia gasped for breath, grudgingly respectful of Voldemort's skill and knowledge.

More death eaters were back on their feet, the majority helping to shield against Dumbledore's powerful curses, a few firing back. With a cry, one went down, blood pooling beneath his leg. Within seconds, he was dragged back by the others, a stabilizing charm applied to the wound.

"_Adelica_!" Voldemort snarled suddenly, his magic pulsing with power as he broke a ward. "I've got the defense - portkeys now!"

The snake-like man stepped forward, wand spitting curses, and within moments the death eaters whirled away, Voldemort firing one last curse before likewise vanishing, a torrent of spells passing through the space he once occupied.

"Madam Bones!" Kingsley said, darting forward and tossing rubble aside. "Are you okay?"

Amelia tried to speak, to say she was fine and to ask how they had gotten there so quickly, but all she could manage was, "Susan?"

"Alive but unconscious," Kingsley answered. "We'll have you both to St. Mungo's right away."

"...how?"

"Alastor and Tonks have been watching your home in shifts, I guess," Kingsley shrugged. "They said Potter had the warding stones placed almost a week ago. Dumbledore was the one that activated them. We almost got some of the death eaters because of it."

Amelia tried to say more about the trap still being good for morale, but unconsciousness took her.

Moody's warning had landed Harry and Tonks there long before anyone else, and the latter two watched from the edges under Harry's invisibility cloak as the death eaters rained fire on the Bones household. When the tree knocked one of the assailants to the street and Dumbledore had arrived and sprung the trap, the two of them acted. By the time the wards had gone up, they had dragged the stunned death eater down an alley and under the cloak with them.

"_Innervate_," Tonks said, the death eater's eyes snapping open.

"_Imperio!" _ Harry cast immediately afterwards. "Name every death eater you know not currently dead or in prison!"

"Peter Pettigrew…" the man slurred, long pauses between each name as he fought the curse. "Antonin Dolohov...Evan Rosier...Fenrir Greyback…Bellatrix Lestrange...Corban Yaxley…" he went on.

"Harry, Voldemort just took the ward down!" Tonks snapped.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry stunned the death eater, shifting to the side to give Tonks room.

"_Obliviate! Ennervate!_"

The death eater's eyes barely opened before Harry jabbed his wand at him. "_Imperio_."

Voldemort landed neatly on his feet in Malfoy manor, seething with anger. Around him his scattered death eaters were picking themselves off the floor.

"A _trap_!" he snarled. "How did they know we were coming?"

Wisely nobody answered him. Bellatrix looked on, waiting for orders; most of the others were tending to wounds or helping others.

"Anyone missing?" Voldemort hissed, glancing about. As if in response, with a pop Travers appeared.

"What took you so long?" Voldemort demanded.

"I was hit by the tree," the man said blankly, turning to one of the wounded death eaters. "Yaxley...are you seriously hurt?"

Corban Yaxley, a man who had long taunted the Travers of his less impressive pedigree, stared while holding his side. "Just a bit of debris hit me - what's it to you?" he spat.

"_Avada Kedavra_," Travers said, the spell snuffing Yaxley out of existence a split second before Voldemort and Bellatrix's spells slammed Travers across the room.

"WHAT?" Voldemort roared. "Everyone's wands on the floor, NOW!"

The objects clattered to the floor while Voldemort quickly scanned them for the imperius, then he turned to Bellatrix.

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes, milord," she cackled, levitating Travers over to him. A quick innervate brought the man back to consciousness, the glazed look gone from his eyes, which darted back and forth and widened in terror as he looked up at a furious Voldemort.

"Please, please my lord!" Travers began babbling. "I didn't want to! I didn't want to! They imperiused me!"

"Silence!" Voldemort snarled. "_Legilimens!_"

A moment later the dark lord was done, Travers weeping on his knees before them all. "You're weak, Travers," Voldemort said almost absentmindedly. "Taken out by a tree? Then failing to shake off an imperius? You might have delayed in your orders long enough for me to realize and free you."

"What was the order, my lord?" Bellatrix asked.

"To kill as many death eaters as possible, starting the one he disliked the most," Voldemort answered, his thumb moving over his wand as he thought. "It was fortunate they didn't ask questi-"

"My lord!" Bellatrix shouted. "He's-"

Voldemort spun, wand flashing, to see Travers convulsing, foaming at the mouth. "A bezoar, or a draught of living death, quick!" he commanded.

One of the death eaters, mask still askew, scrambled from the room. Two spells later, Voldemort shook his head, giving up the attempt to save Travers. "_Legilimens!_"

Five seconds later, Travers died, and his memories faded to mist.

For a long moment everyone was silent, staring, not sure what to think, and more vitally not sure what Voldemort was thinking. The death eater sent for the potion ran into the room, pulling up short as he took in the scene.

"How very...aggressive," Voldemort said, sounding almost pleased. "How unusual."

"My lord?" Bellatrix asked.

"They used an unforgivable," Voldemort mused. "Someone knows that there's no rules in war. And they made Travers drink poison to cover their trail."

"Didn't you see their faces in Travers' memories, my lord?" another Death Eater asked.

"Not at all," Voldemort smiled. "They wore white masks, with asian symbols painted on the foreheads. Their accent was mostly British…"

For a moment Voldemort was silent, musing, then he suddenly snapped to attention. "Get yourselves healed!" he snapped. "Send for Severus if you must. And someone get me a pensieve! I'll be in the library."


End file.
